


How To Get What You Want Without Taking It

by wildestranger



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-07
Updated: 2010-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 18:26:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildestranger/pseuds/wildestranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompts were whiskey, fire escape, Amsterdam, bashing Wordsworth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Get What You Want Without Taking It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coconutswirl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=coconutswirl).



Remus is standing on the fire escape, smoking a cigarette. The cold air and the smell of ash greet Sirius as he enters the flat, and he closes the door, and breathes it in.

He likes to make fun of Remus for having such a filthy habit and yet being fussy about smoking inside. He likes the careful explanations Remus gives, about how tobacco isn't dangerous for werewolves (at this point Sirius rolls his eyes) but how unhealthy it is to have smoke inside the house, how cigarette smell clings to clothes and hair and walls. And how they might lose their deposit, as their landlord doesn't allow smoking. Remus speaks as if it is important that Sirius understands this.

There is a bottle of whiskey in his bag. He puts it on the table and walks to where Remus is standing.

"All right there, Padfoot?"

Remus blows up cigarette smoke and it forms into little circles. Sirius watches Remus' lips move, pressed together, then apart. Watches his tongue come out to moisten them.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

Remus smiles, and the wrinkles in the corner of his mouth show that it's a real smile, although tired.

"Magic!"

The words are whispered loudly, but the sound of rain pouring down around them makes it hard for Sirius to hear. Yet there is a glint of manic glee in Remus' eyes, and Sirius wants to answer it with a delighted grin of his own.

"What's the whiskey for, then?"

Sirius pulls the cigarette from Remus' fingers and lifts it to his lips. He expects Remus to tell him that he doesn't smoke. He takes a drag, but Remus says nothing. Sirius gives the cigarette back.

"I bought it for Amsterdam. Forgot to take it along."

Sirius doesn't look at Remus when he says this, but he can see from the corner of his eye that Remus stops moving for a moment, then takes another drag.

They had gone for a weekend in Amsterdam for James's stag night. To do all the things James had never done, and Sirius had claimed to have done but hadn't actually. There had been a list.

James and Sirius had tried marijuana, and Remus had smirked when they had spent the next ten minutes coughing and being sick.

But then James had said that he'd never kissed another bloke. And before Sirius had time to stand up, strut about for a bit and then snog James while making lewd gestures, Remus had grabbed James' face in his hands and kissed him. James had kissed him back, his eyes closed and his hands holding tight fistfuls of Remus' t-shirt. But Remus' eyes were open and he looked at James all the time they were kissing. Sirius could see how gently his hands were cupping James' face and how his mouth was coaxing reactions from James, making him grind against Remus' body and make soft moans at the back of his throat. Remus' shoulders were taut and although his hands were still, the muscles in his arms were moving beneath his skin, visible through the thin material of the shirt.

Sirius feels his stomach flip whenever he remembers how Remus looked at that moment.

Peter had nudged him with his elbow and asked in a loud whisper how long had Moony been a shirt-lifter. Sirius had scowled and told him to shut up. But he had wondered.

When the kiss had finished, James had grinned manically and Remus had called him an idiot and told him to go get more alcohol from the bar. Peter had followed James, his mouth still hanging open. Remus had sat down on the sofa, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Had a bit too much to drink, eh, Padfoot."

And Sirius had sat there, still shocked and scared and hard because Remus had…Remus was. And he hadn't known.

"Well, I don't think he's going to leave Evans for you."

And then Remus had grinned and called him a prat, and Sirius had grinned back and called him a wanker, and that was that, that was fine.

But Sirius is still unsteady. He watches Remus doing ordinary things, everyday things like washing the dishes and ironing his shirts, and Sirius' palms begin to sweat and his heart starts pounding and he can't breathe. Remus has long fingers and narrow hands, and his skin is pale, with a few freckles on his wrists. Sirius rarely sees Remus' wrists, they are hidden under long sleeves and frayed cuffs and worn gloves. But his fingers are careful and deliberate in their movements, as if they knew what they were doing. They had been careful on James's face.

"Sirius?"

The tone is inquisitive, but friendly. Remus doesn't expect any danger from Sirius, as he has done in the past, and probably will again because Sirius fucks up a lot. Sirius grins, and Remus smiles back, with fondness but some suspicion as well. Sirius is rarely distracted.

"Want to have some whiskey?"

Remus stumps his cigarette in the railing, and brushes past Sirius into the living room. Cold air and tobacco and Remus, and Sirius can't help but stay still and savour it for a moment, the cold hands and the press of warm skin under the shirt.

"Go on then."

Sirius pours them both a glass. The whiskey is clear and golden, reflected in the crystal tumblers James had given them as a house-warming present. Remus drinks his in one go, but Sirius swirls his, watches it move in the glass.

"Sirius? Is everything all right?"

Sirius considers saying it out loud, what he wants, what he can't stop thinking about. But Remus wouldn't be impressed by that. So he decides on a more circuitous route.

"How did you know?"

Remus puts his glass down. His voice is cautious now.

"How did I know what?"

"That you fancied men."

Remus pours himself another drink, lifts it to his mouth and sips.

"That I kissed James doesn't mean that I fancy men. It was a joke, you know that."

"Yes. But you do, don't you?"

Remus sighs and takes another drink. His eyes are almost closed and Sirius can see his eyelashes fluttering uncertainly as he looks around on the floor.

"Why do you ask?"

Sirius takes a sip of his drink. The taste is strong and he closes his eyes against it, and against Remus. But when he opens his eyes Remus is looking at him.

"Because I think I do. Fancy blokes, that is. Well, fancy you."

Remus opens his mouth, but doesn't say anything. Yet Sirius hears it anyway, all the reasons Remus won't believe him, wouldn't believe anyone who said that. So he puts down his glass, and climbs on Remus' lap. The other tumbler is hanging precariously from Remus' fingers, before Sirius rescues it and downs it in one gulp. He notices Remus watching his neck as he drinks. He puts the glass on the table.

Remus still doesn't say anything. _Well, that's almost a permission_, Sirius decides, and kisses him.

He can taste the cigarettes and the whiskey on Remus' mouth. His lips are cool but they begin to move against Sirius', and then Remus opens his mouth and Sirius' stomach flips again. His fingers are holding Remus' face, his thumbs stroking Remus' jaw and his tongue is inside Remus' mouth as Remus groans and presses against him, closer. Then pushes Sirius away.

"No, Sirius."

Remus lifts his hands and tries to put some distance between them, but Sirius grabs hold of one hand, curls his thumb along the palm, and sucks one finger into his mouth. Remus' hips jerk beneath him as Sirius swirls his tongue along the wrinkles on Remus' knuckles, tasting the cigarettes and the burning matches. Remus closes his eyes.

"Sirius. Please don't. Don't do this."

_Please don't make me do this_ is what Sirius hears. He lets go of Remus' hand and lets it fall on his lap. And leans closer so that his mouth is next to Remus' ear and he can see the goose bumps rising on Remus' neck.

Words are not things Sirius is good at, not like this, not when it matters. But Remus needs them, and the sliver of longing in the way he looks at Sirius suggests that they might work, if Sirius can find the right ones.

_You are the most beautiful thing in the world_, or _I want you, have wanted you forever_, these are not things Remus will believe. Nor _I love you_, although that is also true in ways Sirius has not yet learned to handle.

"Remus. Remus. Don't think I don't want you."

Sirius feels Remus become still beneath him, and knows he has a chance. He tries to sound calm, but the despair is there in his voice, and the hunger.

"Please. Let me touch you. You're so…"

_Eminently touchable_ is what comes to his mind, but he can't say that, can't sound facetious even when it's true.

"Let me in, Moony. Let me."

And Remus just looks at him, and bites his lip, doubt and desire harshly illuminated on his face. Sirius has to swoop down and lick the abused lip, taste the blood on Remus' mouth. And of course he can't stop, and Remus is kissing him back and he clings on to Remus, desperately grateful suddenly that he is allowed to do this.

But Remus' fingers tugging at his shirt are equally urgent, and Remus' teeth are sharp on his collarbone. And when Remus pushes him back on the sofa and climbs on top of him, Sirius starts worrying about how he doesn't know what he is doing, how to do what Remus likes. But he is also vulnerable, naked and spread out before Remus, and the fact that Remus wants him like this makes him forget about everything else.

He can't stop touching every bit of Remus that he can reach. He presses kisses on the inside of Remus' wrists, licks up the blue veins to his elbow, and sucks on the sensitive skin there. Sirius' hands are moving all over Remus' skin, from leg to hip to belly to shoulder to hand, pinching and stroking, desperate for more, anything, more, Remus.

Then Remus pushes one finger inside him and Sirius stops moving, his heartbeat fast and his breathing shallow. Remus looks at him, and Sirius nods. Then Remus kisses him.

It hurts, but the ache is as much pleasure, as it is pain, and longing for more. And when Remus is pressed tight against him, trembling and moaning because of him, Sirius closes his eyes and holds on, because this is all that he wants.

: :

James and Lily's wedding takes place on a rainy day. Sirius arrives late and finds Remus already there, arguing with Lily's mother over using Wordsworth's poetry in his speech. Sirius always enjoys listening to Remus abuse literature and he is glad to hear that even the solemn occasion does not keep Remus from pointing out what Wordsworth should do with his prelude.

But when Remus sees him, he stops talking and doesn't answer Sirius' smile. Mrs. Evans scowls when she sees what has distracted Remus, and pointedly ignores Sirius.

James comes and drags him to an alcove at the back of the church for a last drink and some dragged nerves. Sirius insults him for a bit, and then James starts to laugh, and punches him in the shoulder and hugs him.

Peter finds them laughing and drinking straight from the bottle, and tells them that they're late, and everybody is worried and can they please come now. James smacks a kiss on Peter's forehead and Sirius ruffles his hair, and they go to see James married.

But when he sits down next to Remus, later when rings have been exchanged and promises made, Remus grabs hold of his hand. Remus lifts it to his lips and kisses it, and Sirius begins to smile and doesn't stop all day.


End file.
